It’s pointless to complain about life being unfair. It is the simple, unrelenting truth about life.
Over the past few days, Lucas developed a small limp on his front left leg. Lucas limps often because his back hips are so bad, so it was noteworthy that this was on the front. Of course, he had been to doggy daycare, so I assumed an injury. Yesterday he could barely walk and his ankle was swollen. I iced it and called the vet.
They got him in first thing this morning.
First of all, he behaved impeccably. The dog who, early on, would require a separate entrance to the vet sailed through the wait in the lobby, the exam, and then the x-rays. My heart was bursting with pride.
But as soon as the vet opened the door, I knew.
My big baby, the big yellow dog who stole my heart the moment our eyes locked all those years ago, has cancer.
His leg is spider-webbed. He must’ve been in pain for so long but only just started to show me.
I am shattered.
We’re waiting to hear from the oncologist at Purdue. They’ll do a full-body scan to determine if/how much it’s spread. If it hasn’t, they may be able to amputate his leg. If it has, his prognosis is grim. We won’t know until then, though.
The crazy thing is that there are still all these normal things I need to do: run to pick up his medicine, finish work deadlines, go to Chicago for Pinups for Pitbulls, walk Cooper, wash the dishes, and on and on. But, for now, I’m just sitting on the floor with my babies. The stress of the vet took it out of him, and Lucas is zonked, snoring away peacefully.
I’m going to take a break from blogging. If I miss replying to comments or updating or reading your blog, please forgive me for at least a short while. I’m not sure how to maintain normalcy right now, so I’m not going to. I promise to update when we know more – I suspect we won’t be able to get him into Purdue until next week, so it might not be before then.
All I keep thinking is how to handle two dogs with terminal cancer. I’m not sure I can. At least not now.